The Reluctant Matchmaker
by xsummerbluesx
Summary: At thirty-two, Ginger Hirano has a fulfilling career in her sister's old high-tech firm. Not that it impresses her aunts, who make dire predictions about her ticking biological clock. Men are drawn to Ginger's looks and she dates regularly, but hasn't met anyone who really intrigues her. Someone professional, ambitious, confident, caring. Someone like her new boss Baljeet Tjinder?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: Hello, welcome to some new Balinger. :D The rough draft of _TRM _is complete. I will attempt to polish and publish a new chapter every week, most likely on Saturdays. I hope you enjoy what I believe is a happy future for one of our favorite couples. Cameos by original characters may occur. So look out! :D

Summer

**Disclaimer**: Based off/Adapted from work by Shobhan Bantwal.

* * *

**Chapter 1**:

I had no clue that within the next hour my life was about to take a dramatic turn. The bizarre incident struck so unexpectedly that it let me dazed and fighting for breath. Literally.

In my mother's native language, this type of special occurrence was all part of the plan designated on the _akai ito. _The red string of fate.

I'd heard of epiphanies and traumas changing people's lives in a flash. I'd known one or two individuals who had either plunged into misfortune or zoomed into orbit because of a single momentous event—heck, the brothers who once lived down the street from my house could do that literally—but I couldn't believe my experience could match or even outdo theirs to some degree.

Those kinds of outlandish things happened to others, in my opinion. Ordinary folks like me were exempt from such encounters. Or maybe not.

One minute I was striding forward, trying to maintain my best "smart marketing-public relations executive" image, and in the next I was falling on my back, arms flailing, my short skirt riding upward, providing the shocked people gathering around me an unobstructed view of my underwear.

Sheer humiliation. Well, at least I'd had the sense to wear my best panties, the ones that my cousins Kimora and Nemu, had insisted I splurge at the best lingerie store on this side of the Pacific.

It had started out as a normal day. I had strolled into my twenty-second floor office in the huge multi-story building in Marunouchi, Tokyo, like I did each weekday morning. Granted, I had an important meeting later that day, and I was uptight about it. I was to meet the new highly respected president and CEO for the first time since I'd joined the company with the name Tjinsaka, incorporated.

After my shower that morning I'd taken extra care with my hair and make-up. Then I silently offered prayers before the family shrine. When it came to important business meetings, I wasn't going to leave anything to chance. Like my great-aunt from Japan always said, "Prepare yourself well for any kind of catastrophe, but always be sure to pray to Amaterasu. Think of the heavenly goddess as your insurance agent." It was no coincidence that my great-aunt was named Amaterasu. She also happened to be an insurance agent for Insure for Life: Japan.

By the time I had gotten to the altar my auntie, my _oba-chan_, had already finished her daily prayer. Despite being a modern woman and a medical doctor, she followed an archaic family tradition of not eating or drinking anything before offering the day's first prayer.

She had placed rice and water in front of the shrine. Incense she had put in the corner of the room was wafting its scent around.

Unfortunately, I wasn't all that fervent about my Shinto faith. Back in the States, I think my mom stopped by the temple at least once a month, but when we were little, she only took Stacy and me for major holidays. And my dad, despite having two parents who followed Shinto tradition, started getting into Catholicism as a teenager so my grandma pulled him out of Uruguay as quickly as she could. I went to the altar every now and then—when I needed an extra help from above—like today.

After praying, I felt much calmer. So what if I had to face the head of the company for the first time? I was a professional and could handle almost anything. Or so I thought.

I would realize how wrong I was by the time the workday came to an end.

At precisely 8:07 a.m., our office assistant Kimiko "Kimi" Matsuda, and I wished each other good morning as I stopped by her desk, or the administrative office as she preferred to call it.

The marketing-public relations department occupied a corner suite made up of three rooms, the first one being a main outer office with Kimi's desk, a row of filing cabinets, a fax machine, a copier, and a coffeemaker. It opened out into a long main corridor, but in the back it had two doors that led to separate offices, the smaller one being mine and the larger belonging to my boss, Alec Wrotsky. The only access to Alec's and my offices was through Kimi's area. She was our gatekeeper.

Locking her door conveniently locked the entire department. I appreciated the safety feature.

Kimi took one look at me and beamed, the dimple in one cheek deepening. "Ginger, you look great!" She swiveled her chair to study my outfit more intently. "Wow, you're even wearing the shoes you got last month, too. Nice."

I gave her a small pleased smile. I'd hoped others would love my ensemble as much as I did. After I spent hours in the store looking for a fall wardrobe, it would've been a letdown if someone hadn't noticed. "Thanks."

Kimi looked down at her own grey pantsuit paired with dark blue shell and black mid-heel pumps. "Everything I wear looks so _bleh_. How come when you wear the same thing it looks all stylish and cute?"

"That's not true," I said with a dismissive gesture of my hand. If Kimi only ate a little less rice, she'd be attractive. She had a lovely face with wide, sparkling black eyes and an infectious smile that no one could resist. Losing a bit of weight could work wonders for her. And the slightly outdated pantsuit could look more refined if it were taken to a tailor or given a simple accessory to spruce it up. A soft but bright scarf or a great statement necklace could bring on a sense of chic to her ensemble.

Kimi was a good worker and a kind soul, and she had become a friend and a confidant in the short while that I'd been working in the company. Besides, as a forty-year-old mother of two young boys, Kimi didn't really have to pull of elegance. She had bagged her man seventeen years ago, and he apparently loved her, extra baggage and all.

"It is true, Ginger," Kimi argued, "That's because you're young and thin and pretty."

I shrugged. "Thin yes, young perhaps…but pretty? I don't quite know about that." Frankly, I didn't quite feel all that young anymore, not since my thirty-second birthday four months ago.

My parents had dropped a few concerns, and my extended family had dropped more than several hints about my flagging biological clock, my soon-to-fade looks, and my shorter than average stature—my vice. The consensus was that if I didn't find a husband within a year, I was quite likely to die an old maid.

With each passing year I was supposedly inching closer to tooth loss, dementia, and osteoporosis. I'd probably lose even more inches because small women were more susceptible to bone deterioration, according to my Auntie Mai, my father's younger sister. I called her _oba-san _out of respect as per Japanese tradition.

Of course, dealing with the glances of disproval and pity were all partly my fault. Thanks to some sort of gratitude from the University of Tokyo toward my grandfather, any of his offspring within the next three generations, if accepted to the school to attend any of their universities, were exempt from school tuition and room and board fees. It only made sense that I wouldn't turn down the chance at a free education, and a world class one at that. Attending Todai was no joke and a diploma from them was just as respectable as attending Harvard here in the States. Stacy had attended there and look where she was _now—_the president elect of Uruguay. Not to mention that the economy here was great and I figured I could accumulate a solid bank account before returning home. Another plus was that I no longer had to talk to my parents' families with stilted Japanese; I was fluent now.

Not that it helped my current situation.

Auntie Mai's birthday gift to me had been a book titled _Score a Hit Before Your Ovaries Quit_. It was not a gag gift. My aunt's sense of humor didn't extend to witty presents. I hadn't gone past the first few pages yet, but it was a primer for women on the art of landing a man.

At this point, my aunt wasn't dropping hints; she was grabbing me by the scruff of my neck like she would a recalcitrant puppy and dragging me toward matrimony. A thirty-something, unmarried niece would diminish her own young daughters' marriage prospects. In fact the ripple effect of one black sheep's deficient image could potentially taint the entire Hirano clan if it wasn't bleached white as soon as possible.

Kimi wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Is that suit in honor of your meeting with Baljeet Tjinder today?"

"No." What was Kimi trying to insinuate? That I was out to bat my eyelashes at our CEO? Ew, no. I grew up with that kid for god's sakes. When was the last time I'd even seen him? Well, anyway I'd been there, done that, and wasn't in the mood to do it again. Even if I _was _interested in the man the employees referred to as their CEO, I was nowhere near the significant chapter in my _Score a Hit _book yet and wouldn't know how to go about flirting the right way. The book said there was a method to everything. But I had to master the subtle art of seduction first, before I ventured into practicing it.

"After all, he's an American like you, and friends with the Flynn and Fletcher brothers. He's a good catch, right?" Kimi seemed have this notion that anyone with the same nationality had to be the best of friends. But as far as I knew, nationality and childhood were all that we had in common. He was a genius, a wealthy man with a corporation of his own, with all the surrounding power and trappings, while I was a nobody with an ordinary job.

To some extent Kimi was right, though. I did want to impress Mr. Tjinder, but for entirely different reasons.

First of all, it was important to my career. I firmly believed in setting the right tone. I wouldn't be surprised if he noticed me right away, he probably wouldn't be shocked to find the younger sister of Hartzen's Corporation's former CEO Stacy Hirano working in the branch of the no longer existing company. But I had to show him that I was ambitious and not someone who had leeched off Stacy.

Second, since he and I both had grown up in Danville, his friends and mine were very well acquainted with each other. If I made a poor impression on him, he could pass it one of his buddies and the words would spread like a wildfire. I'd work too hard at attaining the image of bright and hard-working professional to end up with a "dud" reputation.

Third, jobs like mine were rare. I'd heard rumors that as Tjinder had been combing over and visiting his new acquisition in Hartzen's, he'd fired a few employees for incompetent work. I wanted to keep mine for a long time.

And last but not least, a dumb image would ruin my chances of eventually finding a decent husband. Who would want a dunce for a wife, especially the cerebral Japanese guys with advanced degrees from pedigree schools, and _magna cum laudes_ written all over their diplomas that my aunts and the family elders introduced me to?

My aunt Noriko after discovering who Tjinder was (his profile, not his relation to me), and that he was single and unattached had hinted that I should try to charm him. Sure he wasn't Japanese like she would hope but Asian heritage, a solid paycheck and a few million dollars to his worth, as according to _Ferbes_, made him a considerable candidate.

"One never knows when and where fate will strike, and it is up to an individual to give it a slight nudge in the right direction," she'd declared with a hopeful edge to her voice. She had apparently heard good things about Baljeet Tjinder from the gossip she attained from her husband's colleagues' wives. In the Japanese book of matrimonial prospects, Tjinder was very close to near a superb catch.

Kimi's teasing grin tugged my wandering attention back to her. "Who are you trying to fool?" she challenged. "Admit it; you're wearing a classy outfit to impress _him_."

"Absolutely not," I retorted. "I went shopping the other day, and the new line of clothes looked so chic. I tried a few things and…you know the rest."

"I know it well. You're a woman, and we can't help ourselves if we want pretty things."

I laughed at her pretty apt portrayal of my shopping habits. "Am I that predictable?"

"Spoiled brat is what you are. Your parents give you too much freedom and your family allows you too much money."

"Not anymore," I countered. "I've been paying for my own credit card bills and my auto insurance and gas since I started working seven years ago." I pointed to my outfit. "Strictly department stores. And very often deep-discount stores if my savings account starts looking anemic."

"Really, now!" mocked Kimi.

"I love discounted stores. They used to have some amazing ones back in the US."

"Humph."

"You don't like them?" I threw her a wide-eye look.

"I adore them. Besides, they're the only shops I can afford." One thin, scornful eyebrow shot up as Kimi turned back to her computer. "I wasn't talking about the stores you shop at, silly; I meant the things your family does for you. How soon do we forget the free room and board?"

I headed quietly back to my desk because I had no rebuttal. She was right. I was still living with my Aunt Noriko, and her husband, Hitachi, along with my younger cousin, twenty-seven-year-old son Takeshi, who was a medical resident at one of the nearby hospitals. He was one of my favorite male cousins (his brother shared the title with him), and he and I were the fledglings who left home to acquire an education (he went to the US while I moved here), then he returned home and I never looked back.

My Auntie Noriko, my beloved _oba-chan_, who was my father's youngest sister loved having us around. She had been despondent while I lived at school and her two sons lived away. "So quiet and empty without any children," she used to moan when I visited her for dinner. "Your Uncle and I walk around like unsatisfied spirits in this house."

However, now that two of us were staying in her home, Oba-chan complained that Takeshi and I were sloppy, that our ever-ringing cell phones and late night disturbed her sleep, and that our erratic eating, bathing, and sleeping habits left the kitchen and bathroom in disarray.

Satoro, my older cousin, and Takeshi's older brother, was a successful stockbroker at thirty-four, and had his own home a few miles from his mom's own in Shibuya. But most of the time Satoro hung around our house, so he ate with us almost every night. His imported state-of-the-art refrigerator held nothing but beer, soda, and a fat jar of soy sauce. Despite having a shiny new washer and dryer in his home, he ended up doing his laundry at his parents' place. He saved on groceries and laundry just like Takeshi and I, but _he _had the nerve to label the two of us "cheapskates."

It's not as if I haven't considered moving out of my aunt and uncle's home, but rents were so obscenely high in Tokyo. And it wasn't for nothing that people denigrated Tokyo for being the most expensive city in the world. Things were not cheap here. How did ordinary people manage to make a living in this city? I often wondered.

Besides, Oba-chan and Oji-chan lived in my deceased grandmother's big, comfortable home right smack-dab in the middle of Shibuya—one of the busiest parts of Tokyo. Our house was such a white elephant among the tall skyscrapers that tourists seemed to think it was some sort of cultural novelty, and sometimes when I walked out of the traditional house, I'd find them taking pictures next to our front gate. Aside from the minor nuisance of a dense population and annoying visitors, Oba-chan was a superb cook. Takeshi and I were no fools.

Dropping my purse in my desk drawer, I strode over next door to my boss's office. It was dark.

"Alec's not in yet?" I asked with some surprise before heading toward the thermos of tea that she'd brought form home. Sniffing the wonderful aroma, I poured myself a cup. Alec was usually here before I was.

Kimi shook her head. "I hear there's a problem with the Chiyoda Line and getting people off the trains is a mess. He's probably stuck in that."

"But he would've called us. He has a cell phone."

"Alec's not late yet. And Shane already called twice to check on Alec." Kimi rolled her eyes.

Shane Montague was Alec's gay partner, and at times a minor aggravation for Kimi and me.

I looked at my wristwatch. "If Alec doesn't call soon, Shane's likely to call again."

As if on cue, the phone rang, and Kimi answered it. "Hello, Shane-san." She rolled her eyes at something he said, and then assured him between pauses that Alec would be fine. "Don't worry…I'm sure he'll arrive any minute…Not answering his cell? There was an accident near the Otemachi station this morning and the Chiyoda line has been temporarily halted…Oh, you already know…"

I stood close enough to her desk to be able to hear most of Shane's words. He sounded upset. No surprise there.

Kimi leaned back in her chair. "I'm sure Alec is not a statistic Shane…" She sighed. "You Americans always react with the worst possible scenario in mind…I'll tell him to call you the moment her gets here...You're welcome."

Hanging up the phone, Kimi gave a dramatic sigh. "I don't know how Alec puts up with the likes of Shane day in and day out."

"Alec actually likes it. He's got a doting mother, friend, partner, and lover all rolled into one extremely attractive package."

"Attractive yes, but I'm not so sure that that's one package I'd ever consider paying for."

"I know what you mean," I said

on a laugh, and took a sip of my tea. Kimi had an amusing way with words. "But he cares deeply about Alec. He quit his job in San Francisco to be with Alec in whole different country. Remember? It's quite touching."

"My husband cares deeply about me, too, but if he called me twice a day to ask about my blood pressure and my ovaries, I'd get annoyed."

"Hm." Shane was like a mother hen around Alec. He packed a healthy lunch for Alec each day with carefully prepared sushi or seaweed salad, fresh fruit, and a little side of herbal supplements to prevent every possible health risk, from elevated cholesterol, diabetes, and high blood pressure to and enlarged prostate and impotence.

From looking at all those pills, one would think Alec was a doddering old man, but he was only fifty-one and in good health. Granted he was overweight, and he was losing hair, but looked quite virile.

Nonetheless Kimi and I made sure Alec took all his supplements religiously. Keeping Alec in good health meant peace and quiet for the rest of us. Shane was fifty and going through a mid-life crisis. As long as things were going well at home, Shane's calls were usually limited to about two per day.

I disposed of my cup in one of the recycling bins and glanced at my watch again. Alec's unexplained absence was beginning to trouble me.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Experienced a delay in my personal life that kept me from working on this story, but I'm back! Enjoy. :)

* * *

Chapter 2:

I returned to my desk to await Alec's arrival. Both my incoming email and hard mail baskets were bulging. My day was going to be packed.

Any girl's first year in a job is challenging enough, what with attempting to be sweet but diplomatic, curious but not nosy, friendly but not sycophantic, helpful but not pushy—and all while trying not to step on some important and sensitive toes. Combine that with serious marketing efforts of my employer, an aggressive, high-tech company, and I had a tough job.

The business was growing, so my life was full—and then some.

I worked hard to make the company look good. I handled their marketing campaigns, press releases, newspaper and magazine ads, and charitable events. I edited and published the quarterly newsletter, and I did anything and everything that involved dealing with the public or the press.

My title was marketing and public relations manager. Sometimes I felt life the janitor, because I was expected to clean up the public relations mess if someone from the company made a faux pas.

Whenever the proverbial crap hit the fan, I ran for my bucket and mop. There was never a dull moment. Nonetheless, I loved my job—most of it, anyway.

Tjinsaka designed and developed advanced software for many federal government agencies around the world including the United States Armed Forces and World Health Organization.

Working with the Feds, the military brass, and an assortment of other bureaucrats on secret projects was a complicated job, and one in a while Tjinsaka's top executives made the mistake of giving too little or too much information to the media, and the backlash had to be handled by Alec and me.

Although Alec, whose title was marketing director, was a nice guy, he was a bit on the laid-back side and tended to push things my way—especially the sticky, messy issues that he didn't want to soil his large fingers with.

That was precisely why he'd hired me, a woman with an MBA from Brown, two years experience working for a mid-sized Chicago newspaper, and two years working with a prestigious Manhattan firm—until they'd laid me off when a short-termed economic recession had hit. Then there was my brief volunteer stint working on Illinois's last governor's political campaign.

For my age I had a pretty impressive work history. My job with the gubernatorial campaign hadn't amounted to much more than placing poster in strategic locations and answering phones while I looked for a paying job. But it looked good on my resume.

I glanced at the digital clock on my desk. Alec still hadn't shown up. Our meeting was in fifteen minutes. I still didn't mind going to meetings without him, especially now that I'd become accustomed to this place and the various personalities. But I still disliked the thought of going to this particular meeting alone.

It would be unnerving to meet the CEO without Alec beside me. Although I was the one who did most of the routine work, Alec was the guy who had final authority to off on it. Plus he was an excellent talker—he made the simplest projects sound impressively complicated. That's why he was the director and I the underling.

If Alec was hopping trains, he would have called by now. A horrible thought struck me. Could he be involved in an accident, like Shane feared?

Alec walked in just as I was about to share my disturbing thoughts with Kimi. "Good morning, ladies," he greeted us absently in English, stopping at Kimi's desk.

Heaving a sigh of relief I raced to greet him. "Am I glad to see you! We were worried about you, Alec."

"Some idiot decided to mess with the cables at the station, so I had to wait for nearly an hour until they could bring a new car in," he grumbled. Most people would have been irate, but Alec was treating this like a minor inconvenience.

"Shane called," Pinky announced. "He's convinced you were in some accident of sorts—a statistic."

"I had a feeling he'd be upset." Said Alec as he strode toward his office, carrying the navy blue insulted bento lunch Shane had packed for him. "My cell phone had to die on me today of all days." You have a portable charger don't you?" I asked his retreating back.

"I've been meaning to buy one…but I haven't gotten around to it." He stuck his head back out the door. "Kimi, could you please call Shane and tell him I'm fine, but I can't call him back right now?"

"Sure thing." Kimi was already grabbing the phone.

I made a mental note to buy Alec a cell phone charger for when he was out as a Christmas gift. I'd have to find out the exact make and model of his phone.

A few minutes later, having gulped down a quick cup of coffee, Alec stood at my door, portfolio in hand. "Ready to go, Ginger?"

His wide body practically fit the entire doorway. The bald patch on top of his head gleamed under the fluorescent lights. What was left of his hair was combed neatly. His latest cologne, a gift from his partner no doubt, drifted up to meet my sensitive nostrils. Very pleasant.

"Ready as I'll ever be," I said, and grabbed my notes and pen.

CEO Tjinder, who generally divided his time between Geneva and Washington D.C.—either wooing customers internationally or at the home front, was going to address the managerial staff this morning. I'd never met him in the six month's that I'd been with the company.

I'd met his partner, Taro "Taa-chan" Sakamoto, several times. He was the chief financial officer. Ever since Tjinsaka had bought out Hartzen's, he'd made his home in the Tokyo base, so he was a familiar face around here.

Taa-chan was a decent guy—friendly, cheerful, entirely different from my image of the usual accountant type. Although a smart and disciplined man when it came to fiscal matters, he didn't seem obsessed with the bottom line like most CFOs I'd come across.

He didn't dress like an accountant either. A stout man nearing his late-thirties, he generally sported twill pants, loose cotton shirts, and no tie. Besides being an oddity among the hundreds of CFOs spread throughout Tokyo, he laughed and kidded a lot. Taa-chan was a likeable man.

And the company name—Tjinsaka. Couldn't they have picked a simpler name? But the two partners' names Tjinder plus Sakamoto, had turned it into Tjinsaka, Inc.—a very strange handle that I personally thought was bad for PR. Most people over here referred to it as Jin-baka. Which actually made little sense when translated, unless it was turned backwards. Still, it managed to get the meaning of "idiot person"across.

Who knows, maybe a weird name like that worked in highly technical circles, where guys wearing pocket protectors discussed computer codes and discovered ways to build the most hacker-resistant firewalls in the universe.

My job was simply to make Tjinsaka look good—outlandish name and all.

Although not nervous by nature, when I got tense, like I was at the moment, I needed to go the bathroom. "Alec, you go on ahead," I said. "I've got to run to the ladies' room."

Alec shifted away from the door. "No problem." He flicked his cuff back and looked at his watch. "We've got about…six minutes. I'll wait. You run along."

Alec had come to accept my pre-meeting trips to the ladies' room with his usual calm.

Inside the restroom, after getting the essentials out of the way, I stood for a moment in front of the mirror. The auburn highlights in my shoulder-length hair gleamed. My makeup looked fresh.

The suit looked pretty good too. It was a soft, copper-colored material with a skirt that showed about three inches of skin above the knees, creating the impression of longer legs. Every millimeter of leg was important when one barely stood five feet. The suit went well with my navy blouse and pearl earrings. I wanted to look my best for the meeting.

Irrespective of my Aunt's aspirations, and whatever Baljeet Tjinder would turn out to be, first impressions that I made with the executive board were vital.

Returning from the ladies' room I turned to Alec. "Let's go."

We got into the elevator and headed for the ninth floor—the penthouse. Tjinsaka occupied the top four floors of the building. The second through eighteenth were taken up by a number of small businesses, while the first floor housed various doctors' offices.

"Don't look so anxious," Alec said briefly, taking in my appearance. "You look fine, prettier than usual." His green eyes twinkled with teasing admiration.

"Thanks , Alec. You're good for my ego." If any other fifty-one year old man had given me that look, I'd have wondered about his intentions, but Alec was overtly gay. I lifted an eyebrow at him. "Do I really look that nervous?"

"A little."

I caught him peeking at his own appearance in the smooth chrome wall and patting his tie. I smiled to myself. I'd often wondered how a guy like Shane, with his classic good looks and impeccable taste in clothes, had fallen for a plain, rotund guy like Alec, but Alec had a sense of humor and integrity, so physique could be overlooked. Also, he handled Shane with infinite patience and tenderness.

That's probably what kept the fastidious Shane and Alec together—opposites attracting and all that. Kimi had informed me that the two men had been partner for some nineteen years—a match made in heaven. In some ways I envied their happy relationship.

The topic of looks reminded me of something. "Is the CEO really as tall as everyone says," I asked Alec.

Alec nodded. "Looks more like he should have been a basketball player than a computer geek."

Well, that was unfair. I can still remember more than fifteen years ago when I had towered over all my girlfriends, and now I was barely reaching their shoulders. Tjinder himself had not been a tall kid. Even in high school, while he lost all his baby fat on his body, he'd never really hit a significant growth spurt until senior year. And not even that made him much taller than Phineas Flynn. Must have been a late-bloomer.

But if Tjinder was really as tall as everyone was making him out to be, then my auntie's hopes about him and me were groundless. I was a  
midget by any Asian standard. Besides anything other than a professional relationship with him would be a direct conflict of interest.

Oh well. I didn't care one way or the other. As long as Tjinder proved to be a good boss and I could keep my job forever and not get laid off like I did from my last one, I'd be okay. If he turned out to be half a decent guy as Taa-chan, then I had nothing to worry about.

As the elevator headed for the penthouse, the butterflies in my stomach fluttered more briskly. I'd heard a lot of gossip about Baljeet Tjinder from the employees.

Some of the younger women in the office seemed to get all starry-eyed when they talked about him. I wondered I he could be gay—like Alec. Heck, I even speculated whether or not he and Buford used to have something going on, but I suppose not since Buford started dating Milly in high school. And pardon me if I'm wrong, but wasn't an unmarried man at thirty three a bit unusual by cultural Indian standards?

A large corner office on the top floor was set aside for him, but as I was told when I first joined, he hadn't used it since he'd acquired Hartzen's. I'd seen some recent pictures of him from newspaper clippings and company newsletters, but it was hard to see whether or not he'd turned handsome or ugly or plain. He just looked taller than most of the men in group photos.

He was considered a whiz though. On that one point the verdict was unanimous. A double engineering degree followed by a master's in computer science, both with highest honors, and both from MIT, said a lot about the guy's intellect.

The entire office seems to be in awe of the man's brains. Of course, the staff had all received a raise after the procurement of the company, so getting a fair report on the man was a bit like asking oppressed people how they felt about their deliverer. And apparently he was even more generous. He and Taa-chan regularly rewarded their top salesmen with large bonuses.

But the few men who didn't care for him were unusually acerbic in their comments. That could simply be jealousy on the part of some guys in the same age group as Tjinder—men who had ended up working for him instead of competing against him.

And I didn't know a single businessman, or businesswoman, who hadn't made a few enemies along the path to success.

It was only natural for a woman like me, who weighted not an ounce over eighty-seven pounds in my heaviest wool suit to feel anxious about seeing a guy who was a lot bigger and much more powerful. But I was ready. In fact, I told myself, I was looking forward to the meeting.

The elevator doors opened. I forged ahead, my thoughts entirely occupied with what I was going to say in the meeting and how I would handle tough questions.

In the next instant I collided with something that only could have been the front end of a truck. Before I knew what hit me, my feet slid out from under me.


End file.
